By the time that we left home, it was pouring down rain. With the wiper blades turned high, we slogged through the late morning reverse commute through Livermore, passing the wind farm on the Altamont Pass that had disappeared into the clouds.
But by the time that we breasted Manteca to stop for some In ‘n Out burgers for lunch, it had seemed that we had outrun the storm. Radar images on the weather sites we consulted on our iPhones confirmed that we were now ahead of the storm, though we couldn’t dally long.
The rest of the journey into Yosemite was dry and uneventful. In fact, by the time we got to Yosemite to settle in with some Moscow Mules at the former Ahwahnee Hotel, the sun was feebly warming the deer visible from where we sat that were munching on new shoots in the late afternoon air.
As we set down for dinner, however, the storm had inexorably caught up to us. It started to snow; hard.
By morning, several feet blanketed the valley, providing early risers a unique opportunity to happily stomp through the snow snapping pictures along the way. We could not have planned it that way even if we tried.